


The Well of All Souls

by forgotmyline



Series: Fic Swaps [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DAficswap, Dragon Age Quest: Here Lies the Abyss, Gen, Inquisitor Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgotmyline/pseuds/forgotmyline
Summary: A retelling of Here Lies the Abyss, in which Carver Hawke is the Inquisitor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyriumdreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumdreaming/gifts).



_“Here lies the Abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity.”  
_ -Canticle of Andraste 14:11

Snow fell thick and heavy, the swirling white obscuring Carver Hawke’s view as fierce winds stung like a thousand tiny arrows. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the reunion that awaited him on the battlements just yet. It had been some time since he had last seen his sister and much had changed since then. Still, he shouldn’t dawdle any longer. There was a mad Tevinter magister with aspirations of godhood on the loose and time was slipping through his fingers. Carver took another moment to compose himself - it wouldn’t do to let his sister see his nervousness, especially now that he was no longer the young man he used to be, living in his big sister’s shadow.

His steps were slow and heavy, his boots falling in hard thuds against the stone of the battlement steps. He saw Malina before she saw him, leaning against a low wall while she laughed at something Varric said to her. She looked weary, but otherwise good. She was still wearing their father’s coat, once red but faded to a rusty brown by the years and battles it had seen. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she laughed, the ice blue of them matching his own, and her dark hair was cut into a short bob again, bits and pieces of it sticking every which way. Some things hadn’t changed, it seemed.

He cleared his throat, standing a little straighter, a little taller, hoping that if he looked confident, he might _feel_ confident. Doubts were normal, of course, especially when dealing with the sort of mess he was currently up against. And it wasn’t that he lacked confidence, precisely, but his sister had a way of making him feel smaller, lesser. She didn’t do it on purpose, of course - she just had this… this _way_ about her, a larger than life personality that so many seemed to flock to.

He took a deep breath in to calm his nerves and, trying to act as nonchalant as was possible for him, he called out, “Malina.”

She turned to face him and he froze, unable to will himself forward even as she launched herself at him. She enveloped him in a bone crushing hug, squeezing him so hard that it knocked the breath from his lungs. He found himself squeezing back all the same. He had missed her, more than he thought, so much that it caught him off guard. Maker knew they had their issues - he couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t argued constantly - but they were family and the world would be a much duller place without her.

“So formal, little brother. Although I suppose it’s Inquisitor Hawke now, isn’t it? It’s not that I don’t trust Varric’s storytelling abilities, but you’ll have to explain how exactly that all came about.” She pulled out of their embrace, holding him an arm’s length away so she could look him over, make sure he was doing well.

He gave her a frown, reverting to his former surliness a bit now that he was around Malina again. He shrugged her arms off his shoulders. “Stop it, Mal. I’m a grown man - I don’t need you to mother me.”

He knew his words would sting, but he still didn’t enjoy seeing his sister upset. “I know that, Carver,” she said, so softly that it unnerved him. “I just missed you is all, and you’ve been through a lot. Can you really blame me for wanting to make sure you really are alright?”

He pulled her in again, wanting her to know that he cared, that he understood, even if he didn’t know quite how to tell her so. He took a deep breath again to calm his nerves, catching her scent - the unmistakable scent of her magic mingling with the mountain air. “Sorry, Mal,” he mumbled into her hair. “I missed you too, for what it’s worth and I’m glad to see you well.”

They pulled away once more and he heard Varric’s low chuckle. “That was touching, but I think I’ll leave you two alone to talk. Your sister has some information the Inquisition will want, Junior.”

Carver watched the other man walk off for a moment before turning back to his sister. “What information is Varric talking about?”

Malina turned away, pacing back and forth a few times before settling in at the wall again. She bent low, leaning her elbows on it and looking over the courtyard, only glancing up again when Carver joined her. “It’s about the Wardens. You remember the first time I fought Corypheus, how he used his connection to the darkspawn to influence the Grey Wardens who were guarding him?” He nodded at her to continue. “Well, I have a friend in the Wardens, and I thought you’d like to come with me to talk to him about it, see if Corypheus has something to do with the Wardens disappearing. Last we spoke, he told me he’s been hiding in an old smuggler’s cave in Crestwood. What do you say, little brother? Care to join me for an adventure?”

“An adventure?” He couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “Alright, Mal. We’ll go find your Warden and see what he knows about this.”

*****

He had traveled to many places during his time as Inquisitor, places both beautiful and terrible, but Carver was pretty sure Crestwood was the worst place he had ever been. The skies looked as though they were permanently grey, the unending rain falling in heavy sheets, and the old town of Crestwood was now hidden at the bottom of a lake. He couldn’t help the feelings of hopelessness that threatened to overtake him in such a dreary place.

They had finally reached the cave where Malina’s Warden was hiding out when she pulled him aside. She had a look of concern on her face as she stood before him, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. “So there's something I should maybe tell you about my Warden friend. Alistair is the other Warden who traveled with the Hero of Ferelden during the blight. He doesn't like to talk about it much - honestly, I think he's just tired of the attention he gets when people find out. Oh, and he's the bastard son of King Maric, but you didn't hear that one from me.”

It was difficult to not roll his eyes at Malina, but Carver somehow managed. “You could have mentioned that earlier, you know.”

Malina just shrugged. “Yes, but then you might have pestered _me_ about him, and we couldn’t have that now, could we?”

Carver chose not to reply to that, wanting to avoid a fight with his sister. Their travels to Crestwood had been relatively uneventful and they had barely argued. He found that he rather liked it that way. Malina flashed him a grin before slinging an arm over his shoulder, leading him into the cave.

He moved ahead of her, walking down a dank tunnel before coming to a stop before an old wooden wall. There was a faded painting of a skull wearing a blindfold next to a door, the wooden boards of the smugglers entrance rotting from the damp. He only paused briefly before forging ahead through the door, eager to find out what his sister’s Grey Warden friend could tell him. Carver had barely walked into the cave when he found himself with a sword pointed in his direction. He turned to face the man bearing it - Alistair, he assumed. The man before him was younger than he expected, perhaps only a few years older than himself, somewhere around Malina’s age.

Before he had time to say anything or diffuse the situation, Malina sauntered in. “It’s just us, Alistair. I brought my brother.”

Alistair lowered his sword, though he did so reluctantly, if Carver had to wager a guess. “I’m Alistair. It’s an honor to meet you, Inquisitor, though I wish it were someplace nicer.”

His wry grin reminded Carver of Malina and he couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped his lips. “Yes, well… I’ll take whatever help you can give me,” he replied, putting forth his hand in introduction. “I’m Carver, by the way.”

Alistair nodded slightly, taking Carver’s hand in a firm grip to shake it. “After Mal slew Corypheus, the Grey Wardens were content to let the matter rest. Something bothered me about the affair though - archdemons can’t be killed by simple injury and I had a feeling the same might be true of Corypheus.” He paced back and forth as he spoke, finally stopping to lean over a low, makeshift table. “I decided to investigate, but found only hints, no proof. And then shortly after that, every Warden in Orlais started to hear the Calling.”

Carver moved a bit closer, as if that might help him understand more. “The Calling? Is that some sort of Grey Warden ritual?”

Alistair shook his head. “All Wardens are tied to the darkspawn and eventually, that connection will poison us. It starts with bad dreams, and the you hear the music. It… it calls to you, quiet at first, then so loud you can hardly bear it. That’s when you say goodbye, head to the deep roads and take out as many darkspawn as you can before you die. ‘In Death, Sacrifice.’”

“Shit, Alistair,” his sister exclaimed. “Every Warden is hearing that? They all think they’re dying?”

“Yes. I think Corypheus is causing it somehow. And if all the Wardens die, who will stop the next Blight?”

Malina swore again. “And then they do something desperate, which is what Corypheus wants. Is it real, this Calling they’re hearing, or is Corypheus mimicking it somehow?”

Alistair shrugged, the casual movement at odds with the worry creasing his brow. “I have no idea, But right now, all that matters is the Wardens all think they’re going to die.”

“I imagine they’re feeling pretty desperate right about now,” Carver said. “Do you have any idea what they’re planning?”

“I saw what a Blight did to Ferelden. There would be no more Thedas, if not for the Grey Wardens.” The anger and desperation in Alistair’s voice was nearly palpable. “Warden-Commander Clarel suggested some… drastic things - blood magic and such - to stop any future Blight’s before we die. I protested, perhaps a bit too loudly, and, well, here I am.”

Alistair beckoned them both to the table, pointing at a map laid out across it. “They’re gathering here, in the Western Approach. There’s an old ritual tower that I planned to investigate, and I could use your help.”

Carver nodded. “Of course. You two should go on ahead. I’ll head to Caer Bronach, send word back to Skyhold and gather the rest of the group. We’ll follow, and meet you there.”

*****

Carver was in the fade. Again. Maker only knew how this kept happening to him, what he had done to keep ending up in these situations. There was a rift up ahead, one he hoped might lead them out of the Fade and back to Adamant. Of course, that rift was currently separated from them by some… monstrosity of a demon, something he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but it wasn't as though he had a choice. He glanced around at his companions, the fear and disgust on their faces mirroring his own.

A moment to collect himself, that’s all he needed and he knew he could figure it out. His thoughts ran wild, reliving the moments that had brought them to this one. The Grey Wardens, killing their brethren to raise a demon army, only to fall completely under Corypheus’ command. The battle waged by the Inquisition’s troops once they reach Adamant fortress, led by Commander Cullen. The dragon that was maybe some sort of archdemon, chasing Clarel, while he and his companions chased them both. Falling, falling as the stone crumbled beneath them, opening a rift in his desperation without even realizing what he was doing. And then the Fade again. His memories of the first time had been blurry, muddled, bits and pieces that never connected into a whole. The Divine, or her spirit anyway, she had helped him get his memories back, helped them navigate the demons and monsters. But this…

He shook the stray thoughts from his head, turning to the rest of the group. “Cassandra, You , Alistair, and I will get right up there, keep it distracted. Mal, you and Solas stay back, hit him with everything you’ve got. Cole, you do… you do what it is you do, ok?”

Issuing orders felt right, kept the fear at bay. That was the lie he told himself, at any rate, even as the panic started to rise from the pit of his stomach. His sister’s face, though. He knew that expression, her _I’m your big sister - you don’t get to give me orders_ look. She stood to her full height, and he tried and failed to remember the last time he had seen her standing straight, no slouching. Her expression changed to sympathy as she spoke, draping an arm across his shoulder and pulling him close. “Carver… that’s… I don’t think it’ll work - we’ll all be slaughtered before any of us reach that rift. I can distract it at least long enough for you and the others to get by it.”

It took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying, for her words to really sink in. His panic grew heavier, hotter, turning to a rage that had his entire body vibrating. “Absolutely not, Malina. We will fight!”

“No, Carver. Just.. do as you’re told, little brother! You’re too important - the Inquisition needs you. Thedas needs you. And Alistair needs to help the Wardens rebuild after this mess. I can cover you, but you have to go!”

Carver hugged his sister tight, whispering in her ear. “Malina, please,” he choked. “I’ve lost everyone else… Mother and Father, Bethany. I can’t lose you, too. I can’t…”

“Don’t you understand, Carver?” Malina interrupted, pulling out of his embrace to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. Her ice blue eyes were a mirror of his own, inherited from their mother, nearly brimming over with tears. “It’s my fault, little brother. It’s my fault that we lost them all and I will not lose you, too. Go, Carver, save Thedas, and remember that I love you.”

Carver pulled away with a nod, not bothering to wipe the tears that were flowing freely down his cheeks. “I love you, too. And I’m sorry for all the times I was such a pain in your arse.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Malina’s lips. “All part of being siblings. Tell Varric I said goodbye. And if you can get in touch with him, tell Fenris that I love him and I’m sorry.”

Before he could answer, she ran off towards the demon, pausing to look back and give him a wink before unleashing her magic on it. It was enough - he and everyone else made a mad dash for the rift, jumping through and landing back at Adamant to find themselves surrounded by Wardens fighting demons just outside the rift. Carver wasn’t sure how he conjured the strength, but he used the mark on his hand to dispatch the demons before turning to close the rift. He fell to the ground before it, guilt and anger roiling in his gut, a desperate scream tearing forth from his throat.

He and Malina fought constantly, argued about everything, but when push came to shove, they were family and they would do anything to protect each other. He had failed her though, failed when he let her sacrifice herself to that… that thing in the Fade. What kind of brother, what kind of _person_ , did that make him?

He didn’t have much time to wallow in his self loathing before Varric sauntered up to him. “Junior? What happened? Where’s Hawke?”

Shit. How could he face Varric now, tell him that he left his best friend in the Fade? “Gone, Varric. She wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t do what I said. I told her we should all stay and fight and she…” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t say the words, even though they were likely true by now. Dead. His only remaining family was dead now and he had never felt so lost. He lead a massive army, had soldiers and spies and any number of other people under his command and somehow he felt like a scared little boy again, unsure of his place in the world. “I’m sorry, Varric. I tried… she said to tell you goodbye.”

The dwarf looked as lost as he felt, and Carver had the distinct impression that words had escaped him for the first time in his life. “Well…”

He didn’t say anything more, just walked away from him and everyone else. Carver didn’t blame him - he wanted nothing more than to follow, but there were still things to be done.

*****

When all was said and done, the Inquisition had struck a serious blow against Corypheus in spite of their losses. They had taken much from him - the Wardens, the demon army - and Carver knew it was a victory. It felt hollow, though, knowing that Malina was left behind.

He had sent the remaining Wardens away from Orlais, fearing that Corypheus might still be able to control them. Blackwall had asked to remain, and Carver tried to convince Alistair to stay on as well. He chose instead to go to Weisshaupt with the others - he was the senior most warden now, and he needed to relay everything that had happened.

And now he found himself at the Herald’s Rest, in a booth by himself, sitting in the shadows. It had been a long day. He had sat in judgment of Erimond, the Magister who had convinced Warden-Commander Clarel to raise demons in the first place. And then Erimond had died by his own sword, justice meted out quicker than Carver might have liked after everything that had happened. It’s not that he relished killing, but that man had such a large part setting in motion the events that lead to Malina’s death. He held no sympathy for the magister.

He looked up from his ale when he heard someone slide onto the bench across the table. Varric had sat down, a mug of his own before him. “Hey, Junior. Mind if I sit a minute?”

“Please do,” Carver said with a shake of his head.

He watched as Varric fidgeted, his demeanor so different than usual. There had been this uneasy tension between them since returning to Skyhold, neither of them really knowing what to say to the other after Malina’s death. “Listen, kid…” he started, just as Carver said, “Varric, I…”

They both chuckled, and Carver nodded at him to speak. “Your sister… I know how she was, Carver. She’d do anything to protect the people she loves and her death is not your fault.”

“I don’t know. I feel like maybe I should have done more. Then again, Mal was a force of nature sometimes, wasn’t she?”

Varric laughed again, loud and hearty. “That she was,” he said, raising his mug. “To Hawke.”

Carver raised his own, tapping it lightly against Varric’s. “To Malina.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 6th DA Ficswap over on tumblr! The theme was au's, and one of the ideas my partner requested was an au where Carver Hawke became the Inquisitor and potentially had to deal with leaving his sister in the Fade. I hope I did her idea justice!
> 
> Feel free to come poke me on tumblr - forgotmyline.tumblr.com


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